


To Be Decided

by mauvesubmarine



Category: Slaughterhouse Rulez (2018)
Genre: 2 years before, Donald doesn’t exist, Multi, anyway, bye, clemsie don’t need no man, i don’t know hong kongese surnames, i guess, i literally have a friend from hong kong oh no, i would give them more love but we only know a couple of people from their year, its technically not got much relationships just mutual pining, kay’s last name is uhh chung i guess, or 9th and 10th grade, pre film, seymours surname is de montford agajn, smudgers first name is maximus, so the older ones are in 5th year and younger ones r in 4th, so year 10 and 11 for normal ppl, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-22 19:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mauvesubmarine/pseuds/mauvesubmarine
Summary: Pre-film AU. Plus mad stuff going on. Donald doesn’t exist because it’s still got the timeline of the film in the future kinda like they don’t blow up the school. Maybe Donald might turn up early.





	1. Maximus

Monday morning (7:15am) is when we wake up for the first day of the week. We get dressed and cleaned and ready then go downstairs for breakfast, and we sit on our allocated table. Our tables are arranged in year groups, so I sit near Caspar and Isaac and Henry and we eat our cereal in silence. Last year, of course, we sat at the 4th year table. Now it’s filled with rambunctious 14 year olds just like we used to be, but we’ve grown over the summer in all different ways.  
I came to a shocking realisation which is likely to change my entire future, while Clemsie simply got prettier. She also started playing tennis and Mummy bought her some lovely whites for our birthday. Clemsie says that out birthday is the most important time of the year, but it’s simply too late - July 16th. 

After breakfast on Mondays, we have Latin. In latin I sit behind Henry, who sits on the left of Caspar. I can see Caspar from my seat. Due to this fact, I usually don’t pay much attention in Latin, which is unfortunate, as Latin is an important subject in our school. If i ever want to be a God and attend the arcadian orgy, I have to learn Latin. Caspar is sure to become a god. Knowing him, he’ll be head boy, and get to anoint people. Wouldn’t that be brilliant.

Anyhow, after Latin is mathematics. It is my least favourite subject and never fails to upset me. I don’t understand a bit of it, Caspar isn’t in my class, and my teacher is an absolute arsehole. Mr Ketchman - we call him Mr Bitchman, or Mr Ketchup if we’re feeling particularly nice.

After 2nd period (maths) is a break. In this break there are snacks in the canteen, but they are absolutely horrendous, and so nobody ever eats them, lest we die. The occasional 1st year is uneducated and attempts to eat one, and it’s rather funny when that happens.

3rd is music. I play the cello, and the bassoon, so I’m good at music. This is not a subject which anyone can take - we have chosen to take music, and only those who play an instrument are allowed to take music. Caspar plays the violin. This lesson is double, and then, on Monday lunchtime, it is orchestra.

Orchestra is the only excuse I have to talk to Caspar, so I do. I make use of this chance and we chatter on about his week’s favourite composer. Last week it was Mussorgsky, but this week he’s moved on to Handel, a rather different man of a different time period.  
“You know what, Maximus,” He says today. “I like you, you should hang out with us more often.” I can feel my eyes light up. Caspar De Brunose wants me to hang out with him! I never thought this day would come. We could become best of friends and have picnics and candle lit dinners and dance in the kitchen to whomever his favourite composer is that week.  
“Sure, that’d be cool!” I reply, “I don’t really have any friends other than my sister and her friend Kay.”  
He laughs; it’s almost a giggle. 

The last lesson on monday is English. Today it’s English literature so tomorrow it will be English language. The book we are reading (studying) is The Sign of Four, by Arthur Conan Doyle. It’s a Sherlock Holmes novel and it’s absolutely brilliant. I could go on about it for days and I may just have to now I have someone to talk to about it. Caspar likes literature.

After our final lesson we have games. Today we decided to play rugby, which I’m rather good at. Unfortunately Caspar is playing on the other team, so I have nobody I am acquainted with on my team. The girls are on the courts playing tennis. I would much rather be playing with the girls, although I do like rugby. Still, I keep going. Half way through Caspar tackles me with the ball and presses me to the floor. He smirks and runs upwards, after snatching the ball out my hand. I remain on the floor, not motivated enough to get up. Still, I have to, else I’ll be late for tea. 

Tea is what it sounds like. It is regular tea (I have mine with milk and three sugars) and a scone. The cream goes at the bottom and the jam goes at the top. I didn’t make it that way. They are raisin scones and one of the best foods ever made at this school. I sometimes break bits off mine and dunk them in my tea, but today I’m sat with new people, and I have to make a good impression.  
After I’ve finished my scone, Caspar looks confused.  
“Don’t you usually dunk your scones in your tea?”  
I look up.  
“Yes usually, but I just didn’t feel like it today.” I reply.  
“Why’s it taken you 5 years to get any friends?” Isaac asks. I realise I’ve never heard him speak. His voice is lower than I thought it would be, and he has a slight lisp, but only on some words.  
“I don’t know. I guess I just never sought after any… actively.”  
“Maximus.” Caspar says.  
“Yes.” My voice is shaky.  
“Who do you- never mind.”  
“No!” I’m curious, “What was the question?”  
“Who do you like?” Oh. Well. That’s something I’ve certainly thought about and I’m not exactly prepared to tell everyone at this moment in time.  
“Afternoon, Dick.” Kay cuts in, before I can answer, thank god, “Clemsie needs you. I don’t know why I’m the messenger, but I am.” I nod slowly and stand up to reach my sister. Caspar grabs my wrist before I can leave.  
“Meet in my room at 7, alright.” I nod again. He winks. I rush to Clemsie.  
“What do you want, bitch?” I ask. Clemsie and I call each other things like Bitch, Dick, Twat, Bastard etc.  
“I need to talk to you about Caspar.”  
“What do you mean?” I start to panic.  
“You’re friends now!” She says. I let out a sigh of relief, “Finally.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Now I can date him. He is gorgeous.” Oh. I simply nod and excuse myself. I go back to my room. 

It’s 6:53 and I have to meet Caspar in his room at 7. I change into something more casual - dark denim jeans and a school sweatshirt over a dark red t-shirt. I cuff my jeans, of course, and pull on some white socks. I don’t bother putting on any shoes as Caspar’s room is just the other side of the hallway, and down a bit. His roommate is Henry. Mine is a lad called George who I’ve never met. I don’t think he boards, actually. Maybe he goes home after lessons. Clemsie and I used to do that when Granny and Grandfather lived nearby, but then they moved to Sheffield. Bastards.

By the time I’m dressed, it’s 7, and I wander down the corridor towards Caspar’s room. Henry and Isaac are both leaving and talking. I can see they’re going to Isaac’s room, which is 3 along from mine. I knock on the door, expecting a wait before it is opened. It’s opened immediately.  
“Evening, Caspar.” I say, holding out my hand. Instead he hugs me and I awkwardly wrap my hands around his back, tapping him lightly.  
“It’s cool to see you, dude.” He laughs.  
“Thanks?”  
“Come in.” He turns his body parallel to the door so I can go through.  
I expect us to sit awkwardly in silence, but Caspar is talkative. He keeps asking me stupid questions, like “Would you rather have no toes or no fingers?” The answer is no toes, of course. Fingers are useful. He mentions lessons, and I can’t help thinking about English literature.  
“I like literature.” I say.  
“Oh, fabulous. How are you finding The Sign of Four?”  
I check the time. 7:36.  
“It’s incredible.” I begin, then going into a ridiculously long rant about how incredible it is and how much I love Sherlock Holmes.  
“Have you seen the TV show?” Caspar asks when I finally finish.  
“Of course.” I reply, “Benedict Cumberbatch’s portrayal of Sherlock was one of the best ones I’ve ever seen, according to my own personal idea of the man, and-“  
“Don’t you think he and John are totally gay for each other?” He pipes in, leaning forward slightly. I’m taken aback.  
“W- uh- well, they always have seemed since, uh, the original books, and the the actors don’t really help make that seem false.” I stutter. Christ, I’m a mess.  
“They don’t! My brother always tries to convince me they’re absolutely straight but it’s so clear they’re not.” He says defensively, “I’m always good at telling that kinda thing.”  
This is exactly the kind of statement hat makes me internally freak out, and so I do. I need to get out of here, but how, without it seeming suspicious?  
“Shit, I’d better be getting to my room.” Thank god, I found an excuse. “Carver absolutely despises me. He’ll murder me if he sees me out of bed.”  
“Of course, of course.” He looks to the ground, almost sadly, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Meet me outside my door at 8 and we can go to breakfast together.”  
“I shall. Goodbye.”  
Then I go back to my room.


	2. Caspar

I enjoy Mondays, although I have found I feel as if I’m being watched. Not always on Mondays, of course; sometimes it’s on Tuesdays or Thursdays, but never Wednesdays. Wednesdays are fucking mad. I have absolutely no lessons with Maximus (a name which really doesn’t suit him; he needs a nickname) and cricket is on after lessons. This is when Isaac and Henry gang up on me, as they’re both playing for the other team - in all ways. They don’t know that, though. Sometimes Maximus comes and watches which is incredibly offputting because I want to just stare at him the entire time. He either roots for my team or talks to Clemsie and the girls. I’m not sure he has any other friends, seriously. I’ve never seen him with anyone other than his sister since first year, then the Olivier twins left and never came back. Maybe it put him off. I’m not sure.

I’m comfortable with my sexuality, but that doesn’t mean everyone else needs to know. If anyone does find out, they’ll probably immediately figure out my big fat crush on Maxxie or tell my parents and either way it’s a loss. And, though he doesn’t at all give off any straight vibes to me, it might just be wishful thinking and I certainly hope that’s untrue. I’ve talked to Clemsie enough times about him that she probably knows by now, but she hasn’t said anything about him to me. Maybe she doesn’t know. They’re twins but he’s shy, and secretive. It’s sexy. 

“Smudger, you fucking dick,” Clemsie’s voice yells while I’m playing. I’m bowling. I almost hit Isaac in the head. “Get your hands off my book.”   
I look up to see Maximus dropping a large book onto the ground and quickly standing up. Smudger? Is that really something he’s called?  
“My gracious and generous apologies, your highness, Clemency. I am so dreadfully sorry that I showed an interest in your 19th century literature.” He says sarcastically. I can’t help but to smile.   
“De Brunose, pay attention please!” Matthew Clegg, the team captain, yells. Luckily, he doesn’t follow my loving glance to the Lawrences. I’m perfectly sure he’s rather homophobic and that means he’s against me. If he ever found out, he’d murder me. At least, when I look at Maximus - Smudger - he could think I’m looking at Clemsie.  
“Of course, Cleggy.” I yell back, “I would never try to besmirch the reputation of this team.”  
“Shut up you ponce, and bowl.”  
I do. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maximus looking at me and I feel my face become redder. Shit, I’m in too deep.

He sits with us at supper and I take the oppurtunity to ask about his nickname.  
“Smudger?” He looks up as I say this, “What does it mean?”  
He flushes and tries to hide behind his fork.  
“It’s uh- it’s just a nickname.” He replies.  
“What does it mean, though?”  
“Well my grandfather always smudged the orchards- that’s, uh, it prevents frost on trees- and the nickname’s been passed down. To the eldest son.”   
“It suits you.” I nod, eyeing him up and down. I love to look at him. He smiles and stabs his fork back into his foie gras. Personally, I prefer pheasant, of all the posh foods.

Bedtime is tedious with Henners attempting to do a sit up for an hour and making one hell of a racket. I’m fearful Carver’ll come in and throttle us both, although I’ve been laying here the whole time. In the end he falls asleep, and I can sneak out. It’s got to the point in my school career where I have memorised the prefects’ rounds and I can escape whenever I want to, or at 12am, which is when Josephson is on and he lets me go. I usually just wander the grounds. There are groundkeepers who make sure nobody can get in or out without permission so I’ve no chance of being kidnapped - not even by the weird tribe in the forest, since they only want to sell me drugs. Tonight, however, I simply take a stroll down to Smoker’s Corner. It’s a small building next to the lake and by the bridge. What happens in and around it is in the name.

I arrive, after walking at a slow pace, at 11:36pm. I take a seat on the outside bench and stare out at the lake. Here I like to think. There’s nothing specific I think about, I just think, or study, or remember equations and formulae and tactics in my head. Tonight it seems much calmer than usual, until I hear a grunt and a thud from around the corner. I rush around to see Maximus- Smudger, sorry- lying on the ground, holding his arm.   
“Smudger, you indigent, why are you on the floor?” I whisper-shout.  
“You don’t need to whisper,” He says in a normal voice, though pained, “nobody can hear shit out here. Ow!”  
“Answer my question.” I demand. He looks up with an expression on his face I can’t quite understand. It’s a mixture of pain and confusion and fear, I think.  
“I fell off the roof.”   
“And what on Earth were you doing on the roof?”  
He hesitates.   
“Birdspotting.”   
I sigh a deep, calming breath. Idiot.  
“At half past 11 at night?”  
“Yes.”  
“Of course.”  
We stay in silence for a few moments until he holds out his left hand, flinching as his right arm drops to his lap. I pull him up; we end up far too close to each other and I love it, but he can never know that.  
“Christ, fucking hell.” He yells, clutching his right arm again.   
“Have you broken it?” I ask. He won’t know the answer. “Let me see. Where does it hurt?”  
He points to a rather swollen area of his arm and I feel my eyes widen. I touch it gently and he flinches. I sigh deeply.   
“It’s almost definitely broken, or at least fractured. You’d better go to the medical room. I’m sure Audrey will be-“  
“No point.”  
“What?”  
“I’m leaving school tomorrow. Me and Clemsie both are, as,” he takes a deep breath, “Mummy’s fallen ill. However, this is a good time to speak, alone. Clemsie’s bringing Kay and I thought maybe you could come as well.”  
I am being asked by Maximus ‘Smudger’ [Middle Name He Won’t Tell Anyone] Lawrence to leave school with him to go and see his mother. Of course.   
“Of course.”  
He smiles and it lights up my world. Suddenly stretching his arms out, he tries to hug me. This action does not do well for his possibly broken arm as he welps in pain.  
“Jesus Christ, Smudge, come with me to Audrey.”  
“Alright, alright, fine.”  
And we both leave


	3. Smudger

The trip to the nurse takes about 4 minutes, not including the wrong turn down the language hallway. As soon as we reached it, a lad from the year below came out clutching his head and crying.  
“Christ, Seymour, what did you do?” Caspar asks, chuckling slightly.  
“Fuck off, De Brunose.”  
“Always a pleasure De Montford.”  
I look at Caspar and laugh, as he watches Audrey appear.  
“Ah, g’d- hello, boys.” She says, her aussie slang peeking through, “Y’alright? What can I do for you?”  
“I-“ I begin.  
Caspar cuts in.  
“He fell off the roof of Smoker’s Corn- um, the... shed? And has almost definitely either broken or fractured his arm.”  
“Oh excellent. Brilliant work, Lawrence, and right before you have to leave!” Audrey laughs, “Where does it hurt?”

“Ow, fuck off.” I say as we wander back to the dorms. Caspar keeps poking at my arm, where the sling is and it hurts very much.  
“You know it’ll take hours for them to put the cast on. Hospitals are shit.”  
“Hospitals are not shit, Caspar, they save lives.” I reply defensively. He looks at me with his stupid gorgeous face and one eyebrow up.  
“Alright then,” he says, thinking for a moment, “I’ll rephrase it. Minor injuries is shit. A&E, even.”  
“I’ll accept that. They take hours.”  
“Maybe we should go now. They’ll be really quick and you- we have to do things tomorrow?”  
I nod quickly. Anything to get out of sleeping. I know I won’t be able to tonight; I’m so nervous.  
“To a teacher, then?”  
“Alright.”

It takes exactly 47 seconds to find a teacher and I know that because I’m stressed as fuck. I always count when I’m stressed and sometimes it’s useful but other times not. Such as now.  
We find Houseman.  
“Houseman, sir, we can’t wait,” Caspar begins, but Meredith butts in.  
“What are you boys doing out of bed?” He shouts - though quiet enough as to not wake the entire house. Thank fuck.  
“Sir, Smudg- Maximus has broken his arm, we think. We saw Audrey and she said to go in the morning, but it’s just too painful, sir.” Caspar continues, racing through his words. Luckily Houseman understands him and looks at me holding my arm in its sling.  
“Alright boys but we’ll have to take the Jeep.” He looks down, ashamed, almost, “The Aston’s windows were smashed. That’s the headmaster’s bloody car. He’s getting a new one soon.”  
“Thank you sir.” The other boy says slowly, and then suddenly we’re in the car. 

I must have blacked out or something, maybe from pain, or exhaustion, but I miss out the entire journey to the car. Houseman is driving, of course, and Caspar and I are in the back seats. He’s glancing out the window and fiddling with his hands. On the floor of the car his foot taps frantically. It seems as if he’s more worried than I am.  
“Are you alright, De Brunose?” I ask. He jumps.  
“You’re awake!” I nod, “Thank god. I was wondering whether you’d ever wake up.”  
“Well, you looked depressed.”  
“Well, I’m not.”  
“Well, why were you looking out the window gloomily?”  
He’s clearly beginning to get annoyed even at 3 ‘well’s. Turning to face me, his curls whipping around his face, he frowns.  
“You’re a bloody nuisance.” He then turns back to the window, “I’ll have lost my grandparents’ inheritance. I bet you.” Then he goes suddenly a lot quieter, under his breath though I can still hear it faintly. “‘I won’t have you marrying a bloody Lawrence, Caspar, they’re far too much trouble. And Clemency at that.’ Fucking wankers.”  
He says something else but I can’t hear it. Before I can say anything, we’re at the hospital.

The nearest hospital to Slaughterhouse is about 10 miles from the town of Slaughter, which itself is a bloody nuisance, in a larger town called Lislow. Houseman has clearly been here many times before, based on his knowledge of the hospital’s car park and anatomy, probably with Audrey. I’m certain they have some sort of romance going on. She’s too good for him.  
We follow him inside where a nurse is playing on her phone.  
“Ahem,” Houseman announces. She doesn’t look up. “This boy here has a broken arm and needs it put in a cast, thank you very much.”  
The nurse - receptionist? - points us in the direction of a sign saying ‘Minor Injuries’. Naturally, we follow where it goes.  
“Alright, I need you to tell me how you broke this arm, Maximus.” Mr Houseman demands.  
I panic. If he found out I was nestled on the roof of Smoker’s Corner it would be monitored and I’d be absolutely murdered by all my classmates.  
“Well...”  
“Sir, he’s clearly not in a state to explain all this to you right now,” Caspar interrupts, “I’m certain he’ll be able to after a good night’s rest.”  
Thank god he interrupted. I’m terrible at improvisation. Every time we had to do it in Drama, I completely froze up and had to sit down. It’s even worse in real life. There are real consequences. 

After turning a corner, we arrive in a room where another, more attentive nurse/ receptionist is waiting.  
“Hello, love, how can I help you?” She says, her accent clearly from the county.  
“This young lad has broken his arm, which has been checked and is definitely broken, it just needs a cast and... all that. Thank you.” Meredith explains.  
“Alright then, would you like your Dad here to come or not?”  
Caspar sniggers. Houseman shoots him a glare. He stops.  
“He’s not my father, but could my friend come?” I ask.  
“Alright, love.” She looms over at Caspar and welcomes us both to follow her. We do. She leads us to a room in which there are some supplies and that.  
Caspar watches as she puts on the cast which won’t get a full description as the author hasn’t had a cast put on for 4 years.  
After it’s all on (I chose the classic white as my colour), we are lead again to the foyer, where Houseman has fallen asleep.

“Houseman, sir.” I say loudly, “Wale the fu- wake up.”  
He does so.  
“Ah, lads, is it time to go already?” Caspar and I knod.  
“Get back into the car, then.”  
And we do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was NOT invested in this chapter sorry it sucks also why does the paragraphing look so weird on this it’s fine in the notes but whatveer bye


End file.
